Nightmares and Dreams
by Birchblade
Summary: Stephanie is brutally attacked while at college. How will she move forward? Will danger stalk her all the way back to LazyTown? How can she leave nightmares behind for dreams of a happy future? Rated for violence. SportaSteph.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own LazyTown or any of the characters associated with the show. This fanfiction is for entertainment purposes only, and I make no profit from it.

Author's Note: This story contains violence and is **not recommended for younger readers**. Comments and criticism are appreciated, particularly as they relate to the craft of writing.

Hope you enjoy the read!

CHAPTER ONE

The bells in the nearby church tower pealed, and Stephanie looked up from the books spread out on the library desk in front of her. "Eleven o'clock already?" she said, as the last peal faded into nothingness. Glancing out the window, she saw the dim glow of streetlights illuminating the dark pathways of the campus. "How did that happen?"

A young man stuck his head around the nearest bookshelf and yawned. "We're closing up. Time to go."

"Of course!" Stephanie tore a page from her notebook and shredded it into bookmark strips, then closed up the multiple volumes of architectural textbooks and shoved them into her large pink backpack. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I had no idea it was so late."

The librarian yawned again and smiled. "Not a problem. Do you have someone to walk back to your dorm with, or would you like me to call campus security for an escort?"

Stephanie shook her head. "I'll be fine. Thanks for the thought, though." She watched the librarian disappear among the stacks as she shrugged into her pink fleece jacket. Lugging the backpack onto her shoulders, she grunted at the weight, then smiled. Good thing she was in shape. She'd never be able to transport all the books she needed for her architectural studies otherwise.

Her mind spun back to the plans she'd been pondering so intently that she'd lost track of the time – her senior project. It had seemed only natural to design something outside of the norm. Something youthful and fun, but full of specialized architectural details she could never have created in her childhood. This would be a treehouse - like none seen before.

Of course, it was just a design. There would be no actual building – not without a client with the desire and means to finance it. Stephanie acknowledged in her own mind that this was her own vision, her own desire. Every trim, every secret connecting passageway, every window designed to allow a clear view of the branches and sky, was her perfect dream.

A smile lit her face. What a joy to find a passion that drove her. She stepped out of the library door and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Mist hung in the air, settling on her eyelashes. The streetlamps made fuzzy, bright circles of light in the fog, but did little to brighten the space around them. No one else appeared to be stirring in the night.

Something about the fog made the deserted campus very quiet. The silence pressed in on Stephanie and for a moment she hesitated. Then she shook herself. "Silly. There's nothing to be afraid of in the dark."

Pulling a smile onto her face, and pushing her pink hair back out of her eyes, she stepped out into the fog. The library stood on the opposite end of campus from her dormitory. Two different paths would lead her back. One ran along the outer edge of the campus, past educational buildings and several of the other dorms. It would be better lit, but a much longer walk.

The other choice was to follow the path that cut through the wildlife preserve in the center of the campus. In daylight, Stephanie wouldn't have given it a thought. She loved the smell of the trees, the ducks paddling across the pond and the peaceful serenity of the place. On a night like this, though…

She shivered as the fog settled deeper into her jeans, and her fingers began to chill. That did it. The sooner she got back to the dorm, the sooner she could get dry and warm. Stephanie took the fork that led down into the preserve.

As she passed the last streetlamp, she realized that they'd been giving more light than she'd thought in the heavy fog. Her steps slowed as the path dipped steeply into the ravine. She raised her hand over her eyes, blocking out what little light from above remained, hoping to adjust to the darkness quicker. It didn't help. Instead, she reached out for the railing she knew was just ahead. With a few more cautious steps, her hand touched the wet metal and curled around it gratefully.

Encouraged by the physical guide, she picked up her pace, dropping quickly to the base of the ravine. She could hear the quiet rush of the stream flowing down to feed into the duck pond that spread to her left. The concrete underfoot shifted to something more slippery and she knew she'd reached the wooden footbridge that crossed over the stream.

Heavy droplets plunked from the branches overhead, soaking into Stephanie's hair. Down at the ravine's base, the fog was even thicker. Stephanie couldn't even see her own hand in front of her. Her heart began to pound against her ribs. A big part of her wanted to run, to get away from the eerie blackness, but she knew she'd only hurt herself that way, and she forced herself to inch forward cautiously, hand never leaving the railing.

As her fingers slid along the drenched metal, they suddenly contacted something warm and flesh-like. Out of the blackness, a male voice said, "Hello." Then the fingers she'd touched leapt from the railing and two hands wrapped around her throat.

Stephanie tried to scream, but the pressure on her windpipe silenced her. She kicked out blindly, connecting with something solid, and heard a grunt of pain. With fingers made strong by panic, Stephanie clawed at the hands around her neck, throwing her weight from side to side. For a blessed moment, the pressure relaxed and she gasped in air.

"Help! Someone help!" she screamed. Then something hard struck her skull and she crashed to the pavement. She felt the skin of her palms tear against the rough surface.

"Shut up," the low voice ordered from above her, then she felt a heavy weight settle on her chest and cold, slick metal against her throat. "Shut up or you die."

Acting on instinct, Stephanie slammed her knee upwards and was rewarded by a hissed intake of air, and the knife pulled away as her assailant rolled sideways. Wriggling like a snake, Stephanie slid out from beneath him only to be stopped short by a vise-like grip on her ankle. She kicked out with her free foot and heard a curse and the clatter of metal on pavement.

A sharp yank pulled her along the pavement, then fists crashed into her head, her chest, her limbs. Whimpering in pain and terror, Stephanie curled into a fetal position, trying to protect her head and face. Time seemed to slow into eternity, each moment as long as thought, filled with agony.

High overhead, the sound of laughter echoed through the fog, and suddenly the barrage stopped. In the pause, Stephanie gathered what little strength was left in her battered body to lurch up and off the path. Giving no thought to what lay ahead, she crashed through the underbrush, hearing muttered curses and thrashing as her assailant chased behind her.

Stumbling over an unseen branch, she staggered and landed on her hands and knees in rushing water. She crawled forward through the stream, her fingers numb on the rocks at its base, hoping the sound of the water would cover her passing.

"Hey, did you hear something down there?" came a voice through the darkness.

Stephanie's arms shivered and gave out, sending her sprawling face first in the stream. She lay there with her head pillowed on a rock, just above the waterline, listening in the stillness.

Nothing moved. Then, as moments passed into minutes, he moved again in the underbrush, slowly back towards the pathway. As his footsteps disappeared up the ravine's slope, Stephanie finally felt tears begin to slide from her eyes. She tried to pull herself up and out the stream, but pain overwhelmed her, and her eyes slid shut as she lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Motion, the strange vertigo of being lifted, brought Stephanie's eyes blinking open. Cold. So cold. Shudders rattled her, bringing with them pain – pain so intense she cried out.

"Stephanie, it's all right. I have you. You're safe."

Although she knew her eyes were open, all Stephanie could see was a swirling blur. Her head spun, and tears swam to her eyes. "Help me," she stammered through chattering teeth. Why was she so cold? "Mom? Dad?"

"Hush, Stephanie. Try to relax." The voice sounded so familiar. Like something out of a long-forgotten dream. "I'm going to take you home."

"I hurt so much," Stephanie thought, then realized she'd spoken the thought aloud. A strong tremor shot through her, the motion sending up new waves of agony. "Help me, please," she whispered, then fainted into nothingness.

/\

Sportacus stared down at the young woman lying unconscious in his arms. Bruises purpled every inch of skin he could see, and blood matted her pink hair.

He'd been fast asleep in his airship hovering over LazyTown when his crystal surged to life, lighting the entirety of the room, bringing him to full consciousness in the space of a heartbeat. In all of his years as a hero, he'd never seen anything like it. Like a magnet, it pulled his thoughts into the distance, to the one place he'd prayed it would never summon him. To Stephanie.

Without so much as taking the time to pull on his hat, he flipped out of the bed and into the pilot seat, forcing the airship to the brink of its capabilities, all the while knowing that no matter how fast he moved, it wouldn't be fast enough. The university was too far away. When Mayor Meanswell had told him where Stephanie would be studying, he'd smiled and offered his congratulations, and hidden his misgivings beneath his perpetually positive exterior.

Following the unwavering direction of his crystal, Sportacus had brought his airship to a standstill over a deep, unlit ravine. In the darkness of the fog, his crystal lit a path for him though the bushes, until he came upon the stream and saw Stephanie – his Stephanie – lying lifeless in the rushing water.

For a terrible moment, he feared she was already beyond rescue, but as he splashed into the stream and pulled her limp body free of the icy grip of the stream, she'd stirred, trembling, frightened, calling for her parents – how had she forgotten their passing? – and Sportacus finally dared to hope.

First things first, she needed medical attention, and she needed it now. Cradling her carefully against him, he wrapped one arm around a ladder rung. As the ladder rose towards his airship, he became aware of the water soaking into his clothes from Stephanie's, of the terrible chill of her body seeping into his skin.

"Hospital!" he called to the airship, and felt the subtle vibrations as the rotors pulsed to life. Carefully, he laid Stephanie on his bed, then pulled off her jacket, shoes, socks, waterlogged jeans and shirt, then wrapped her in every spare blanket he could find. Her skin was an unnatural bluish color beneath the field of bruises.

Her unresponsiveness as he worked to pull her back from hypothermia terrified him. The airship would be all right on its own. He opened the blankets and slid in beside her, then wrapped them both tightly.

A low groan rose from her lips, and Sportacus pulled her head to cradle against his shoulder. "Shh, Stephanie. I've got you. You'll be fine. You'll be fine." Somewhere inside him, he realized the words were as much for himself as for her. He trembled with anger as he thought of what had happened to this girl – this woman – he corrected himself, who meant more to him than he'd ever dared to consider. If he ever found the one who had done this …

/\

The bright pink of Stephanie's hair made a halo of color around her deathly pale face on the sterile whiteness of the hospital pillow. She had not regained consciousness as the emergency room intake staff made a brisk assessment of her injuries and made her as comfortable as possible. "Will she be all right?" Sportacus asked, from where he hovered near the doorway, trying to be out of the way, but nearby if Stephanie should wake.

The dark-haired orderly looked up from his thermometer. "Her temperature is finally starting to come up. That's a good sign. The injuries appear to look worse than they are. We find no evidence of any breaks or internal bleeding. Your friend here must have put up a good fight."

Sportacus nodded. That was Stephanie. She'd always been ready to defend her friends, and herself if need be. His hands balled into fists. If only he'd been closer, faster. If only he could have been there to keep her safe from this … this brutality. Brave as she was, this was bigger than she.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Does she have any family?"

"Yes," Sportacus nodded. "She has an uncle. He's been like a father to her."

The orderly nodded, pulling off the thermometer's sterile covering and replacing the instrument in its case. "Can you let him know what's happened? Is he near enough to get here?"

"I can bring him. It shouldn't be more than an two hours, I don't think. But," he gestured to Stephanie, "I don't want her to be alone when she wakes."

"She won't be. We've given her some drugs that should keep her unconscious for that long. And we'll have one of the volunteers sit with her until you bring her uncle, just in case."

Sportacus pondered for a moment, then nodded. "I'll go. Please," he said, his voice low. "Please take good care of her."

"Don't worry. She's in good hands."

Before he could change his mind, Sportacus nodded, then turned away, moving quickly for his airship. The mayor needed to know, and Stephanie would need him. Hearing her call out for her parents worried Sportacus. With luck, when she woke, she would remember the truth, and wouldn't have to learn it again.

"Ladder!"

/\

The airship hovered just outside the hospital, and Sportacus turned to Mayor Meanswell. The older man wore an undershirt and plaid flannel pants under his business jacket. Sportacus had woken him from sleep and the mayor hadn't taken the time to dress fully. His hair was rumpled, and he wrung his hands together nervously.

"Mayor, she doesn't look good, but they told me that it's not as bad as it seems," Sportacus said as they descended the ladder.

"I know," Mayor Meanswell said, looking up at the above-average hero. "But who would have done something like this to Stephanie? What could she have done to provoke it? She's not the kind who would …"

"It has to have been a random attack. Stephanie would never hurt anyone."

As they walked into the emergency room lobby, the mayor ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "What would have happened if you hadn't known, Sportacus? How long would she have been in that water? Would she have ever woken up again?"

Sportacus' eyes went dark. He'd had the same thought. There was every chance that hypothermia could have claimed Stephanie. He still felt icy where her skin had touched him. "It doesn't matter. I found her. She'll be all right."

The triage nurse recognized Sportacus. "She's right where you left her. You can go ahead in. I think she's starting to wake up."

/\

Grogginess muffled Stephanie's thoughts, and she struggled to pull herself through the layers of haze towards clarity. Everything hurt, that much she knew. She blinked her eyes, and was rewarded with a glimpse of a while ceiling and a familiar face hovering nearby.

"Uncle Milford?"

Heavy fingers wrapped around her hand, making her aware of its continued existence. "Yes, Stephanie. I'm here."

"But," she blinked again, struggling to order her thoughts, "Why aren't you in LazyTown? You weren't going to be able to visit until graduation …"

"Stephanie," another voice broke in, one she didn't recognize. "You're in the hospital. You've been hurt, and I need to ask you some questions."

Turning her head towards the voice brought new waves of pain. The man who had spoken wore a long white lab coat. The doctor, she realized. "All right," she said, a hesitant catch in her voice.

"Can you tell me what happened to you? What do you remember?"

She felt Uncle Milford's hand tighten against her own, and she closed her eyes. "It was late. I'd come from the library. Foggy …" she paused, thinking. All she could see in her mind's eye was that all-consuming fog. Somehow, though, she knew that she didn't want to remember. "Do I have to?"

"It's very important, Stephanie."

A shiver ran through her body.

"Does she have to do this right now? Can't it wait until she is ready?"

That voice. She knew that voice. Opening her eyes, she looked over her shoulder. There he was, standing unobtrusively in the doorway. "Sportacus?" she whispered. "You're here?"

"If he hadn't found you, there's every likelihood you would not have survived."

The corners around Sportacus' blue eyes hardened as he stared at the doctor, then he glanced down at Stephanie and smiled. "Of course, I'm here. You know I will always be there if you need me."

Making a quick notation on his clipboard, the doctor spoke again. "This is very important. The police have been notified, and are on their way. It's not just your safety at stake, Stephanie, but the whole campus - possibly more."

A sudden rush of memory swelled up, and Stephanie's hands reflexively raised to her throat. "No!"

Sportacus crossed the room in two strides and gripped her firmly by the shoulders. "I'm here, Stephanie. Nothing will harm you."

As his words sank in, the overwhelming sensation of choking began to fade. Her breath caught on a sob, then a torrent of tears overcame her. She covered her face with her hands, mortified to be crying like an infant, but unable to stop the onslaught.

Vaguely, she was aware of Sportacus settling himself next to her on the hospital bed and pulling her close against his chest, supporting her weight, which was good, since she didn't think she could do so on her own. Uncle Milford's voice murmured reassurances from nearby. All Stephanie wanted to do was sink into the oblivion that waited just around the corner of her mind.

"I'll leave you alone until the police arrive," the doctor said. "If you need help, this button will ring the desk and someone will come to you." There was a pause. "Stephanie, I know this is difficult for you, but it's critical that you give the police every answer that you can. I'm sorry."

Then he was gone, and all that was left was pain, grief, and the circle of Sportacus' arms.


End file.
